Build for Tomorrow

Standing on a stage in Scottsdale, Arizona, about to give his first keynote speech, Jason Feifer felt deeply uncomfortable in his suit and watched the expectant crowd with nervous energy. He was opening for Marcus Lemonis, the host of CNBC's The Profit, and had never done anything like this before. As panic set in, a single sentence popped into his brain that instantly calmed him: "I cannot wait to do this the second time."

This moment captures something profound about how we navigate change. Most of us approach transformation with dread, focusing on what we might lose rather than what we could gain. We panic when familiar routines shift, resist new technologies that seem threatening, and cling to outdated ways of doing things long after they've stopped serving us. Yet history reveals a different truth: the changes we initially fear often become the innovations we can't imagine living without.

Through extensive interviews with entrepreneurs, historical research, and personal experience, a clear pattern emerges in how successful people navigate transformation. Whether facing career transitions, technological disruption, or life upheavals, they move through four distinct phases: initial panic, gradual adaptation, establishing a new normal, and ultimately reaching a point where they wouldn't go back to how things were before. Understanding this journey transforms change from something that happens to us into something we can actively navigate and harness for growth.

In 1869, French chemist Hippolyte Mège-Mouriès created a butter substitute called oleomargarine to feed Napoleon III's soldiers. When this product reached American markets, it became a lifeline for working-class families who couldn't afford expensive butter. However, the butter industry saw margarine as an existential threat and launched a fierce campaign against it. They convinced seventeen states to regulate margarine and seven to ban it entirely. Some states even mandated that margarine be dyed pink, black, or red to make it look unappetizing.

The butter producers weren't just protecting their market share; they were experiencing a classic panic response to change. Rather than asking why people preferred this cheaper alternative or how they could make their own product more accessible, they focused entirely on stopping the new innovation. This defensive reaction actually backfired. The strange coloring laws gave margarine an air of rebellious appeal, and people began smuggling it across state lines. Margarine companies cleverly included food coloring packets so families could mix yellow into their white margarine at home, turning the restriction into a fun family activity.

The story of margarine illustrates why panic is such a destructive response to change. When we encounter something new and unfamiliar, our instinct is to focus on potential losses rather than possible gains. We imagine catastrophic scenarios where change destroys everything we value, extrapolating from small shifts to apocalyptic outcomes. But this panic blinds us to opportunity and prevents us from making rational decisions. The butter industry's fearful reaction only accelerated their own disruption, while missing the chance to innovate alongside the changing market.

Mickey Guisewite embodied the challenge of adapting to technological change when she wrote in 1999 about her resistance to the internet. As a "passionate nonuser," she had spent years dismissing this new technology, confident it would become obsolete while people like her remained relevant. But as her friends became internet-savvy and she found herself increasingly isolated, she faced a painful realization: "The Internet was supposed to become obsolete—not people like me."

Successful adaptation requires recognizing the difference between what we do and why we do it. Consider Foodstirs, a baked goods company that had spent over a year preparing to launch packaged goods like brownie bites nationwide in early 2020. When the pandemic hit and baked goods sales plummeted while baking mix sales soared, they faced a critical decision. Instead of stubbornly pursuing their original plan, they asked themselves a fundamental question: what is our core mission? They realized their purpose wasn't just to make baking mixes—it was to bring joy to people's lives through sweet baked goods. This clarity allowed them to pivot quickly, doubling down on their existing products rather than launching new ones at the worst possible moment.

The key to adaptation lies in expanding our definition of what's possible rather than narrowing it. When facing change, most people create artificial boundaries based on their current knowledge and assumptions. They operate like dogs trained with electronic collars, stopping at invisible barriers they've created for themselves. But successful adapters actively seek outside perspectives, copy strategies from other industries, and experiment with new approaches. They understand that their first instinct—to protect what they already have—must be balanced with curiosity about what they might gain.

When entrepreneurs Sam Calagione created the popular 60 Minute IPA for Dogfish Head Craft Brewery, it became such a runaway success that it was on track to represent 70-80% of all company sales. Most business owners would celebrate this kind of breakthrough, but Calagione worried about the future. He knew beer trends come and go, and if his company became known solely as an IPA brand, they'd be vulnerable when tastes inevitably changed. So he made what seemed like an insane decision: he capped sales of his bestselling beer at 50% of total sales.

Customers were furious. People called headquarters screaming, and local liquor store owners confronted him on the street with tears in their eyes, angry that he was withholding the product their customers demanded. When major clients like Amtrak wanted to carry 60 Minute IPA, he said no. Instead, he offered alternatives from his diverse product line and patiently explained his philosophy about maintaining quality and variety. This forced customers to discover Dogfish Head's full range of innovative beers rather than just one popular style.

Years later, Calagione's foresight proved brilliant. As IPA popularity waned, Dogfish Head was positioned as an innovative brewing company rather than a one-trick pony. His willingness to sacrifice short-term profits for long-term sustainability culminated in selling the company for approximately $300 million to Boston Beer Company. The story demonstrates a crucial principle of navigating change: sometimes establishing a new normal requires making decisions that seem counterintuitive in the moment but position you for future success. True innovation often means saying no to immediate opportunities in order to preserve space for greater ones.

Television host Michelle Pfeiffer spent nearly twenty years developing Henry Rose, a fragrance company focused on ingredient transparency, after becoming alarmed by the cosmetics industry's reluctance to disclose what goes into their products. Having spent decades making movies with clear endpoints—you work intensively for months, then the project ends and you move on—she struggled with the reality of running a business. "I kept waiting for it to end," she reflected, "and I finally realized, well, it's never going to. This is what it means to be in business."

The transition from endpoints to endlessness represents the profound psychological shift that occurs when we truly embrace change. Pfeiffer had to abandon her familiar framework of discrete projects with clear conclusions and accept that meaningful growth is an ongoing process. This realization brought unexpected joy rather than burden. "In some ways," she said two years after launching, "the fun is really starting now." She discovered that endless possibility, rather than being overwhelming, creates space for constant experimentation and improvement.

This reflects how memory itself supports our ability to embrace transformation. Neuroscience research reveals that our brains don't store experiences like video recordings. Instead, they break memories into fragments and reassemble them each time we remember, often filling gaps with imagination. Negative emotions from difficult experiences fade faster than positive ones through a phenomenon called "fading affect bias." Our brains are literally designed to help us move forward rather than remain trapped by the past. We naturally revise our personal narratives to support our growth, which makes the "wouldn't go back" phase not just possible but inevitable for those who persist through change.

The four phases of change—panic, adaptation, new normal, and wouldn't go back—represent more than just a framework for understanding transformation. They reveal change as humanity's natural state and our greatest source of opportunity. From the bubonic plague that accidentally created the modern employment contract to the Swedish military that spent years investigating what turned out to be farting fish, history demonstrates that our initial resistance to change often blinds us to its benefits.

The most powerful insight emerges from recognizing that we are all products of changes that previous generations feared and resisted. The technologies we depend on, the freedoms we enjoy, and the opportunities we pursue all resulted from transformations that once seemed threatening. This makes us living proof that change can be beneficial, which means the next wave of change offers similar potential. By moving consciously through the four phases rather than being dragged through them, we can transform disruption from something that happens to us into something we actively navigate and harness. The future belongs to those who build for tomorrow rather than cling to yesterday, understanding that our greatest fortune lies not in finding a permanent stopping point but in having as many tomorrows as possible to explore.